


When Life Throws a Curve

by no_writing_just_ideas_without_motivation



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Baseball, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, MLB, Pitcher Steve Rogers, Smut, bad baseball explanations, but I do my best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_writing_just_ideas_without_motivation/pseuds/no_writing_just_ideas_without_motivation
Summary: Steve Rogers is the best pitcher in the MLB until he tears his rotator cuff and starts coaching a high school baseball team.Guys, it’s the Bad News Bears as a Stucky au. That’s it.Just read it I promise it’s not actually that bad
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This only exists because I was watching Major League and went “o my god, Stucky baseball au” so enjoy ig??

Steve spun the ball in his hand, his tongue poking into his cheek as he watched the next batter.

The name _Barnes_ was written in silver on his black jersey, along with the number thirteen. He was tall, maybe half an inch shorter than Steve, and strongly muscled. A full silver sleeve covered his dominant left arm, making it look like the appendage was made of metal- a superstition, Steve guessed. Or maybe just something that looked cool.

Steve's pitcher, Tony, gave one finger and patted his right thigh.

_Outside fastball?_ Steve thought, his eyebrows creasing. _What the hell, Stark?_ Steve shook his head slowly and bent to rub his ball in the dirt of the mound. Barnes was a fastball hitter and an outside batter, it was obvious from the way his shoulders were built.

Steve saw Tony frown slightly. The catcher shifted his stance and did the motions again.

Steve shook his head with exaggerated slowness and tipped it to the left. _Come on, Stark, give me something slow and inside._

Tony's shoulders raised and fell in a huff. He gave two fingers and patted his left thigh. Inside curveball.

Steve nodded.

Tony thought it over, his eyes flicking over Barnes's structure, and finally put his glove back on. He moved it over to the left and nodded.

Steve took note of the bases- loaded- wound up, and threw.

It went into Tony's glove with a satisfying _crack_.

"Strike one!" The umpire called.

Steve threw a slider.

"Strike two!" The umpire called.

Barnes glowered and tapped the base again. After a pause he grinned, set the bat to rest on his shoulder, and pointed out towards left field.

The crowd went wild.

Steve hid a smile and narrowed his eyes.

Tony gave him a five and tapped on his left thigh. Inside split finger.

Steve looked at the scoreboard. Tenth inning with the teams tied 11-11. There was no way Barnes was going to hit a split finger if he couldn't hit a curve ball, and if he did it wouldn't go out to left field.

Steve shook his head and chuckled. He nodded at his catcher in confirmation and threw the best damn split finger he had ever thrown.

_Crack_.

Steve followed the path of the ball, removing his hat to watch it fly straight into left field... he lost track of it somewhere outside of the park.

"Well I'll be god damned," He muttered, squinting at the dark sky. He heard the screams of the crowd as one, two, three, and four runners crossed home plate.

15-11, the scoreboard read. Barnes had just single-handedly won the entire World Series.

Steve approached the man, smiling and laughing with his teammates, and did something unheard of between the two largest rivals of the World Series.

He shook his hand. "Hell of a hit, Buck."

His best friend grinned and clapped his shoulder. "Hell of a pitch, Steve."

~*~*~

"Don't you guys know that you're supposed to be rivals?" The interviewer held the microphone out to Steve and Bucky and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, ma'am, we know that, but I don't think either of us really cares," Steve smiled.

"But does the team rivalry ever get to you in private?"

Bucky shrugged. "Not really. It's fun to gloat and pick over each other's plays, but we've been doing that since first grade recess."

"And what about your teammates? How do they feel about their best players being friends with the rival team?"

"We're not friends on the field, ma'am," Steve told her.

"What do you mean by that?"

Steve grinned and nudged Bucky's ribs. "When I see him come up to the plate all I see is some guy pretending to have a metal arm with the name 'Barnes' on the back of his uniform. He's just another player to me."

"Interesting. Well, enough about your friendship- Mr. Rogers, how do you feel about losing the World Series?"

Steve and Bucky answered the rest of her questions the best they could. They bid her a goodnight and walked off together.

"Pretending to have a metal arm? Really Steve?" Bucky shoved his friend's shoulder.

Steve laughed and jostled him back. "It's true, Buck. Hey, I'll meet you back at the car. Fury has something he wants to tell the team."

Bucky nodded as they began to split off to their locker rooms. "Yeah, Rumlow probably does too."

Steve walked down the tunnel into his team's locker room and grimaced.

The feel of loss drifted thick and heavy in the air. Steve's teammates were silent as they removed their gear and took their showers, only talking if completely necessary.

Steve sighed and tossed his glove in his locker. He felt bad. His team deserved to win this one, and he'd screwed it up for them.

"Sorry, guys," he muttered into the silence.

The team looked up.

"What?" Tony's voice was confused.

Steve shook his head and pulled his shirt over his head. "You deserved this win. I'm sorry."

He could feel them exchanging glances behind his back.

Then Clint, who played shortstop, scoffed. "Cap, that was the best two finger fastball I've ever seen. I don't know how Barnes managed to hit it. _I_ wouldn't have been able to hit that shit."

"Maybe I pulled it," Steve thought aloud.

That elicited a laugh from the entire locker room.

"If that was your version of a pulled pitch, I don't want to see the regular version." Bruce came up behind Steve and clapped his right shoulder. "I saw that pitch, Steve. Barnes just got lucky."

Steve winced and shouldered Bruce off. "Thanks, Bruce. Don't ever touch my arm after a game again."

"Oh right, sorry. I'll get you some ice."

Before he could leave, though, Nick Fury walked into the locker room, his one eye blazing.

"Mr. Rogers," He said.

Steve wiped his face of emotion and cleared his throat. "Coach."

Fury stepped forward until he was right in front of Steve. He glared at his pitcher and narrowed his eye.

Steve stared back, unblinking.

"I expect to win next season," was all Fury said, but it was cold.

Steve nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Fury pulled back and strolled around the locker room, staring every player down. "Now, I said I had something to tell you after the game. Sadly, we lost, and now I've got nothing to say except that I expect each and every one of you to practice at least three days a week during the off season. Two days will be what you're the worst at and one day will be your usual position." Fury completed his round of the locker room and nodded at them all. "We lost, but you played well, gentlemen. See you next spring."

With that, he turned and left.

After a minute of silence, Tony chuckled and shook his head. "That crazy bastard. Well, who wants to set up a training schedule?"

Everyone booed and threw socks at him.

Steve smiled to himself, glad the mood was back to normal, and went to take a quick shower before he met Bucky by the car.

"See ya next season, Cap!" One of his teammates, Pietro, called as he left with his bag thrown over his shoulder.

Steve turned and waved. "Bye, guys."

~*~*~

The six hour drive home was quiet, the radio gently playing in the background while Bucky rested his head on the window and stared out at the stars.

Steve smiled gently and counted the few cars going past on the lonely highway.

"How the hell did you hit that ball?" Steve said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Bucky's brows creased. "No idea. I saw it coming and I just... closed my eyes and swung. I didn't think I was going to hit it either, pal."

"Right," Steve muttered. "That slide you did into third in the top of the fifth, though- what the hell was that?"

Bucky flushed. "I still touched the base, I just had to wiggle a little bit. And don't even start me on your pitch in the bottom of the eighth. You hit our damn mascot!"

"Hey, that dragon was in the way and you know it," Steve defended.

"It's not a dragon, it's a hydra. And it's a very respectable mythological creature."

"Is that what they teach you at spring training?" Steve teased. "Like the Terrance Hydras' version of 'mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell'?"

"Fuck off, Stevie." Bucky shot back.

Steve laughed. They were silent for a few minutes until Steve timidly said, "Hey, Buck?"

"Yeah?"

Steve coughed. "Um... what would you think about... teaching me to bat?"

Bucky looked surprised. "Really? Yeah, sure. We can go to the cages tomorrow."

Steve's shoulders slumped in relief. "Thanks, Buck."

An hour later, Steve pulled into the driveway of his and Bucky's shared house and ran straight to the freezer with a small greeting to their two dogs.

"Hey Mav, hey Han," Steve muttered as he took an ice pack out of the freezer. He pulled his shirt off and pressed the ice to his shoulder with a groan. "Fuck, that hurts."

"You okay?" Bucky asked, concerned.

Steve looked back and saw him standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "Yeah, fine. Pitching got to me, is all."

Bucky nodded and yawned. "Yeah, okay. Imma go to bed. Come on, Maverick."

He turned and left, the large German Shepherd on his heels.

Steve sighed and sat down at the kitchen table with a roll of gauze to strap the ice to his shoulder.

Han came up and rested his head on the man's knee, looking up at him with his expressive blue eyes.

Steve scratched under the husky's chin and sighed again. "Think my glory days are almost up, buddy."

Han licked his hand.

~*~*~

Steve only slept for two hours and painted while he waited for Bucky to wake up. Their black tortoiseshell Maine coon, Holmes, laid on his shoulders and purred in his ear, sensing Steve had had a nightmare and doing what she could to fix it. Han and Maverick laid in a heap on the living room floor, snoring and kicking each other occasionally.

Steve smiled and rubbed out a thick line of brown with his thumb, smoothing it so it blended with the black of Maverick's fur. He ran his hand through his hair, not noticing or caring when the paint turned his blonde hair brown.

"Looks good, pal," Bucky's voice said gruffly.

Steve jumped and looked up. Bucky was standing with a frown, his arms crossed.

"Um. Hi." Steve wouldn't meet his boyfriend's eye.

"How long did you sleep?" Bucky looked stern.

Steve sighed and set down his paintbrush. "About two hours."

Bucky shook his head. "Nope. Come on, back to bed."

Steve blew all the air out of his lungs. "I'm not gonna be able to."

"Won't know until you try. Come on."

Steve groaned and washed his hands in the sink. He returned and went into his room, leaning over to let Holmes on the bed before he collapsed down next to her. She purred and pushed her head against his.

Bucky came into the room, holding two ibuprofen and a glass of water.

Steve glanced at it warily. "What's that for?"

"Sleep," Bucky said simply. He handed the pills over and then the water. "Drink it all, doll."

Steve swallowed the water with a grimace and laid down, stroking the purring cat at his side. "Thanks, Buck."

Bucky shook his head in exasperation, though Steve knew it wasn't real. "Twenty eight years, and I'm still taking care of you."

Steve smiled and pulled him in for a kiss. "Thanks, Buck."

Bucky smiled and laid down beside his boyfriend. "Of course, doll. You're too stupid to be trusted on your own."

Steve sighed into Bucky's neck. "Yep."

Bucky traced circles on his back.

"You know what would help me fall asleep..." Steve mumbled the words and nibbled at Bucky's jaw.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Steve, no."

Steve hummed and tugged at the strands of Bucky's short hair, sucking on the spot just under his ear, and dammit that was all of Bucky's weaknesses mixed together.

"Stop it, doll," he grumbled, pushing Steve away.

Steve pouted.

Bucky sighed. "How about a back massage? But _only_ a back massage. Then you're going to bed."

"Ugh, fine," Steve muttered, taking off his shirt and rolling onto his stomach.

Bucky grabbed the lavender scented lotion and gently swung his leg over Steve's hips for a better angle. "Tell me if it hurts, okay baby? Do you want me to try massaging your shoulder, or leave it alone?"

"Leave it, please."

"Alright," Bucky said softly, digging his thumbs into the major muscle groups in Steve's back. A slight purple color caught his eye and he paused, squinting at Steve's shoulder. "This is swellin' bad, doll." He ghosted his hands over both shoulder blades, feeling the significant bump in the right. Steve hissed in pain.

"Did you warm up before the game yesterday?"

Steve nodded into the pillow. "Yeah. With Tony, you can ask him."

"No, I believe you. But, baby, I should take you to the doctor-"

"No, no, I'm fine," Steve interrupted, shifting a little. "Just keep goin'."

Bucky sighed, rubbing down the sides of Steve's spine. "You gotta relax doll, you're so tense. Deep breaths, yeah?"

"Mmkay."

Steve eventually drifted off and Bucky creeped out of the bed to grab Steve's phone. He searched through the contacts until he found Steve's teammate, Bruce, who ran a small medical clinic during the off season.

"Hey, Bruce, I've got your first patient of the year."

Bruce sounded surprised. "Bucky? What's- why?"

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. "It's Steve. He's got- I don't know, his arm is swelling and bruising and if I just gently touch it it hurts him."

"Yeah, I noticed how stiff he was throwing last night. There's definitely something wrong, but Steve's too proud to say anything. Bring him in tomorrow at noon and I'll take a look. I'll throw in a check up and a physical too, he'll need one for next season anyway. Until then, don't let him throw or bat or do anything that might hurt it further."

"Thanks, Bruce," Bucky said gratefully. "Hey, good game last night. You're still a hell of a hitter."

Bruce chuckled. "And you, Barnes. See ya tomorrow."

The line cut.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone really out here BOOKMARKING this godforsaken fic (thank you!!!) so here’s another chapter

Steve woke the next morning at 6 with Bucky completely wrapped up in his arms, snoring. Steve smiled softly and gently disentangled himself, rolling out of bed to go for a run. 

"Where the hell are you goin'?" Bucky mumbled into the pillow, an eye cracked open to look at Steve. 

"For a run," Steve replied, leaning down to kiss the other man's forehead. 

"Nah, you ain't," Bucky said, and Steve didn't know if he was denying Steve's ability to go for a run or if he was telling Steve he wasn't going to let him.

Steve snorted. "Yeah, I am."

Bucky huffed and grabbed Steve's arm, pulling the bigger man down on top of him and kissing him soundly. "No. You ain't."

Steve hummed and kissed Bucky back, feeling a hardness poke into his thigh. So it was going to be that type of morning. 

"Buck. I gotta go for a run. Coach wants everyone to-"

"I don't give a damn what your coach wants," Bucky growled against Steve's lips, rolling their hips together. "Right now, I want you to fuck me."

Steve groaned. Well, there was no way he could say no to that. "Fuck. Flip over."

With a satisfied glint in his eye, Bucky turned over on his stomach and pushed his hips back into Steve. "Please, Steve, please fuck me."

"I'm comin' baby," Steve replied as he reached over to the nightstand for the lube. When he squirted some on his fingers and went to prep his boyfriend, Bucky reached back and slapped his hand away. 

"No prep," he gasped. "Just lube up and get in me already."

Steve groaned into his neck. "I don't wanna-"

"You're not going to hurt me, Steve, please."

God, having Bucky under him begging like that should have been illegal. Steve slicked up his cock and pushed into Bucky with a bit off groan. He bottomed out quickly, Bucky's tight, wet heat making his hips jerk uncontrollably. 

"Sorry," Steve gasped when Bucky grunted in pain. 

"Just... give me a second. Fuck," Bucky whispered, his hands curling into the sheets like claws. After a minute he whispered, "'Kay. Move."

Steve pulled out and thrust back in gently, doing that a few times before Bucky hissed at him. 

"Dammit, Steve, harder. Fuck me like you mean it, ya big pussy."

Steve rolled his eyes and buried a hand in Bucky's hair, wrenching his head up until he was craning his neck painfully.

"Ya want me to fuck you?" Steve panted, still moving slow. "You need it hard, ya little bitch?"

"Yes, Steve, yes, please, need it so bad," Bucky babbled.

Steve shoved the other man's face into the pillow and fucked into him hard, the sounds of skin slapping on skin and grunts filling the small room. 

They came at the same time with a groan and a shudder, Steve fucking him through it until they were both too sensitive to keep going. 

"You okay?" Steve asked as he pulled out with a hiss. 

"Hmmmm," Bucky hummed, relaxing into the sheets. 

Steve chuckled and rolled him over to his side of the bed. "Don't lay in the wet spot, baby."

Bucky splayed on top of him with a sigh. 

"You takin' me to the cages today?" Steve wondered, tracing patterns on the other man's back. 

Bucky sighed. "How's your shoulder?"

"Fine," Steve lied, fidgeting. 

"Mhm." Bucky's hand creeped up to cup the back of Steve's neck and took a sharp turn to poke Steve's shoulder blade. 

Steve flinched with a hiss. "Buck!"

"Thought so."

Steve rolled his eyes at the smug voice. "I promise you, I'm fine."

"Mhm. Right." Bucky stood and stretched, muscles rippling. "We can go, but the drive into town is gonna take a few hours."

"Yup."

"We can get there at noon? Spend the day in town?"

"Sounds good."

"We'll leave at nine, then. I'm driving."

"You goin' to shower?" Steve asked, propping himself up on his elbow to watch Bucky's ass as he made his way into the bathroom. 

Bucky winked at him over his shoulder. "You're welcome to join me."

~*~*~

"Steve?" Bucky wandered through the house, freshly dressed in his workout clothes and ready to go. "You ready to leave, doll?"

"Yeah," Steve hollered back from the attic. "Can I borrow your bat? I don't know where I put mine."

Bucky rolled his eyes and came to a stop at the bottom of the attic ladder. "You're not supposed to share bats, Steve. It's bad luck. Didn't you have it for the game yesterday?"

Steve's head poked out of the opening in the ceiling. "No, I didn't really use mine all year. Fury had me pitching and mostly told me I didn't even need to bring it."

"Yeah, we can share," Bucky said despite his superstitions, knowing it wasn't worth it to argue. They weren't even going to use it, anyway. "Come on, we should get going."

Steve huffed but climbed down, his bag slung over his left shoulder. "Why are you in such a hurry, anyway? It's not like it's going anywhere."

"All the good machines will get taken," Bucky lied, taking Steve's bag for him. "Come on."

They packed up their stuff into the car, said goodbye to the animals, and began the three hour drive to Bruce's clinic.

"Where'd you put the aux?" Steve wondered, searching through the console. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. "You can just Bluetooth it."

"How?"

"Oh for god- hold the wheel, I'll do it."

Eventually, Bucky got Steve's phone connected to the Bluetooth and Steve happily skipped through every song that came up. 

Glory Days by Bruce Springsteen started playing. 

"Wait, don't skip this one!" Bucky said, slapping Steve's shoulder. 

Steve rolled his eyes but dealt with Bucky's terrible singing for three minutes. 

Two hours later they arrived in town. 

It was a relatively small town, not really a city but also not small enough for everyone to know each other's names.

"Oh, you passed the cages," Steve pointed out. 

"Sorry," Bucky said, making no move to turn around and definitely not sorry. 

"Buck?"

Bucky sighed, shoulders slumping and hands tightening on the wheel. "We're not going to the cages."

"What?"

"I'm taking you to Bruce's clinic," Bucky muttered sheepishly, glancing at Steve. 

"What?!"

"You're hurt, Steve!" Bucky defended. "You've obviously hurt your shoulder and I don't want you to hurt it even more, because if you do that you might not be able to play for who knows how long, and then what are we going to do?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "A tiny bit of soreness in my shoulder is not the end of my career, Bucky. And besides, if it did, if, you'd still make more than enough for us to live comfortably-"

"It's not about the money, Steve." Bucky pulled into the parking lot of Bruce's clinic and sighed, resting his head back against the headrest. "I love you. So much. And I know you love baseball. You would be crushed if you had to quit before you were ready. And it's also because... I love the game, I do, but one of the only reasons I still play pro is because I know that I get to play against you. And that at the end of the day, no matter who wins, I get to go home with the most important person in my life and let him take out all his post-game aggression on my ass, okay? So just let me take you to the fucking doctor's office for once in your life."

"Okay," Steve breathed. He grabbed the back of Bucky's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. "Okay. I'll go, but I'm not going to like it." 

"Not my problem," Bucky snarked, getting out of the car. "C'mon, ya big baby."

Steve sighed and climbed out, standing with his hands in his pocket and glaring at the building. 

Bucky wrapped an arm around his waist and guided him in. "Come on. It's okay, it's just Bruce, your friendly third baseman who's not all that good at it."

Steve breathed out shakily and walked up to the counter. "Steve Rogers for Dr. Banner?"

"Yes, you're right on time," the old lady behind the counter said. "Go through that door there and it's the second door on your right, sweetheart."

"Thank you, ma'am," Steve murmured. 

"Cap? Bucky?" Bruce appeared in the doorway, smiling. "Come on back and we can take a look at your shoulder."

Bucky reached for Steve's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Steve hated doctors offices, hospitals, and everything in between. 

"It's okay, doll."

"I know," Steve whispered, following Bruce into the completely white room. "Just don't like clinics."

"Alright, Cap," Bruce said, sitting down on a rolling stool in front of a computer. "I know we play baseball together, but I am going to have to ask you some personal questions. Feel free to ask Mr. Barnes to leave, if you want."

"No, it's fine."

"Do you take any medications daily?"

"Occasionally, for asthma and insomnia."

"Any known allergies to any medications?"

"No."

"Do you do have a history of addiction?"

"Yeah, alcohol. Been sober three years."

"Are you sexually active?"

"Yes."

"Any past or current illnesses I should know about?"

"Uh..." Steve didn't know how to answer that; he'd had millions of sicknesses as a kid.

"Asthma, pneumonia, anxiety, insomnia, chickenpox, and heart palpitations when he was a kid," Bucky interjected, having rattled off the list so many times he knew it by heart. "Also he was extremely underweight until he hit this growth spurt when he was 19."

Bruce gave a low whistle, typing all of it into the computer. "Right. What are your current symptoms?"

"Nothing, really. I'm fine."

"Insomnia, anxiety, and the pain and swelling in his shoulder," Bucky said. 

Steve glared at him. Bucky cocked an eyebrow. 

"You sure you guys aren't more than friends?" Bruce joked, chuckling as he stood and pulled out a stethoscope. "Cap, I'm going to listen to your heart and lungs now. Deep breath for me."

Bucky's brows creased. Did Bruce not know they were together? He shot a questioning look at Steve, who wouldn't meet his gaze. Oh, so Bruce didn't know. 

"Right, your heart, lungs, and heartbeat are all good, except for a slight rattle in your chest," Bruce said, sitting back in his chair. "I assume it's been there a while?"

"Yeah, we've been keeping an eye on it for a long time," Steve replied. 

"Good, keep doing that. Now I'm going to have to ask you to remove your shirt so I can check your arm and shoulder. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, everyone here has seen me shirtless anyway," Steve joked, pulling off his sweatshirt. He tossed it to Bucky, who folded it neatly. 

Bruce proceeded to put Steve's arm through a series of tests, movements, and x-rays, most of which caused Steve to grit his teeth in pain. 

"So, I've got news."

Steve and Bucky looked up in unison as Bruce walked in, holding a few papers. 

Steve straightened. 

"It's not good news," Bruce continued, sounding sad. 

"Just tell me, Doc."

"Steve..." Bruce hesitated and sighed. "You tore your rotator cuff."

Steve's breath hitched. 

"It's already partially healed, so even if you come back from the surgery... I'm sorry, Cap, but you're done." 

~*~*~

When they got back in the car after a long conversation with Bruce about their options, it was tense. 

"Still want to spend the day in town?" Bucky asked timidly. 

"I gotta call Fury," Steve murmured, as if he hadn't even heard Bucky. He fumbled to pull his phone out of his leather jacket pocket and dialed a number with shaking hands. 

"Steven Grant Rogers, this better fucking be good," Fury's voice said through speaker phone. 

"I tore my rotator cuff," Steve said, no emotion in his voice. "Just got the news from Bruce. Surgery is in three days, but... it's unlikely I'm going to be playing again."

The line was silent. 

"Coach?"

"Did you just tell me I'm losin' the best damn pitcher in the MLB cause Steve I swear to high heaven you better be joking."

Bucky grabbed the phone out of Steve's hands. "Hey, Fury, it's James Barnes."

"This day could not get any worse."

"You're hilarious. Listen. Steve tore his rotator cuff, and he's not going to be playing again for a very long time. You got a problem with that?"

"What are you, his damn boyfriend?" Fury sighed. "Give me back to Steve, off of speaker phone."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at Steve, who nodded, and handed the phone over. 

"Yeah ... Yeah, I know ... Good ... That's exactly what I'm doing. Yes, coach, I understand. Bye." Steve hung up the phone and stared out the window of the car. 

"So?" Bucky prompted. 

"Guess who just retired from the MLB."


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m??? Still fucking writing this????

Steve fell into bed with a huff. 

"How'd everyone take it?" Bucky asked, putting his book down. 

Steve shook his head and cuddled into his boyfriend's side. "Not good, mostly."

"Spill the tea, sis," Bucky joked, hoping to lighten the mood. 

Steve sighed. "Tony, my catcher, is pissed. And sad, but he won't tell you that. Clint thought I was kidding and almost started crying when I told him I wasn't. Pietro... well, Pietro was Pietro. Scott was really sad. Sam's crushed, Thor is distraught, and Rhodey never really liked me in the first place."

"So... not good."

Steve shook his head. "Not good."

"This doesn't change the fact that I want to meet them," Bucky warned as he ran his fingers through Steve's hair. "Really meet them, not just on the field. I want them to come over and have a hangout with beer, pizza, and football." 

"Of course. They're the closest friends I've ever had and I'm not giving them up just because I quit the league." 

They were silent for a moment. 

"I notice Bruce didn't think we were together," Bucky said hesitantly, not knowing how Steve would react.

Steve shook his head. "None of them know. I haven't even come out to them. I... I've heard some of them making jokes. I don't think any of them would actually have a problem with it, but... You know. I'll tell them eventually, I just have to work up the nerves first."

"I'm pretty sure that Thor guy and Bruce are gay for each other."

Steve snorted. "Definitely."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, only disturbed when the massive elephant in the room reached its breaking point.

"So what do we do now?" Bucky asked quietly, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Marry me," Steve replied, loud in the quiet room. 

Bucky stilled, slowly moving to meet his best friend's gaze. "What?"

"I'm serious." Steve sat up and faced Bucky. "Marry me." He reached into the bedside table and pulled out a small velvet box. With a deep breath, he opened it, revealing an elegant black ring with small emeralds curving around it, the color of Bucky's eyes. "This isn't really how I planned to do it, but... Bucky, you're the love of my life. You've been my best friend since we were six. I've fallen in love with you countless times over, and I know I won't ever stop. James Buchanan Barnes... will you marry me?"

Bucky blinked back tears and reached into the nightstand, pulling out his own velvet box with a golden ring with sapphires embedded in it. "Will you?"

"Yeah," Steve choked out, grinning uncontrollably. 

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. 

~*~*~

Three nights later, on the evening of Steve's surgery, Bucky woke without someone in bed beside him and found Steve painting in his studio with a cat over his shoulders. Bucky crept up behind them and his heart squeezed. 

It was a painting of a baseball field, the tan of the diamond standing out strikingly against the green grass. The white lines were perfectly straight and the stands were flooding with fans. Stars peaked through the light from the flood lights. Silhouettes of the players stood on the field, each dressed in different colors. 

"What team is that?" Bucky wondered, resting his chin on the top of Steve's head and hugging him from behind. 

Steve shrugged. "Don't know. Just some kids playing in a field, I think."

"That's all baseball is, isn't it? Just some kids getting paid to play in a field?"

"Guess so."

Bucky sighed. "We're gonna be okay, doll. You know that, right? You can finally work on your art, like you've always wanted."

"Yeah," Steve whispered, still staring at the painting. He turned to face Bucky and buried his face in his abdomen. "Buck, I've been thinking. For a while."

"I should hope so."

Steve bit his hard stomach, earning a yelp from his fiancée. "Shut up, jerk. Listen. I might be moving a little fast, but we've been together for a while, and..." Steve looked up into Bucky's eyes. "What would you think about adopting?"

Bucky went still, his heart going into overdrive. A kid? James Barnes, taking care of a kid? "I don't know, Steve... I'm not much of a parental figure. Especially to a baby."

Steve snorted. "You're a regular mother hen if I ever saw one. Besides, I wasn't necessarily thinking a baby."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. There's so many teens in the system, and they're always the last to get adopted. Babies go quick, though."

"There's a lot of baggage that comes with a teenager, Steve."

Steve shook his head. "I know, Buck. But all they need is some love. You remember bein' like that, don't you? Shitty apartment, one bed, not knowing where our next meal is coming from? And all we wanted was some TLC?"

Bucky sighed. He couldn't really argue with that. "I'll think about it. Come on, back to bed. You've got to un-tear a rotator cuff in six hours."

Steve didn't laugh, face still in Bucky's stomach. "'m scared, Buck."

Bucky rubbed soothing circles into his back. "I know, doll."

"I'm never going to be able to play again."

Bucky shook his head sadly. "No."

"It's only just sinking in." 

"Me too, doll."

Steve snorted. 

Bucky whacked the back of his head gently. "I'm serious. It's only just sinking in that I won't get to watch my hot fiancée when he's pitching anymore."

"You're such a pervert."

Bucky grinned. "Only for you, baby doll."

Steve rolled his eyes and stood. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

Bucky tried not to notice that Steve had been crying.

~*~*~

Bucky bounced his leg nervously, staring down at the floor. 

Steve had been in surgery for almost three hours, and Bucky had barely moved from his seat the whole time. 

"Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky shot to his feet, staring at the Doctor. "Yes?"

The doctor walked over to stop in front of him, flipping through the pages of his clipboard. "Mr. Rogers's surgery went perfectly. He is currently in room 126 if you would like to see him. You should be good to take him home in about 2-3 hours. In that time, I have some things I'd like to discuss with you..."

Bucky stood tapping his foot impatiently as the doctor explained the importance of the recovery time; making sure Steve kept his arm still and in the sling for four weeks, making sure Steve iced his shoulder, making sure Steve went to physical therapy for the exact amount of time he was supposed to, blah blah blah. As soon as it was over, Bucky all but ran to the room Steve was recovering in. 

"Stevie?" Bucky cautiously sat down next to the bed, reaching for his fiancée's hand. "You with me, doll?"

Steve's eyes twitched open, squinting at Bucky. "Buck...?" He slurred, still half asleep from the anesthesia. 

"Yeah, baby, I'm here." Bucky grinned as Steve squeezed his hand gently. 

"Go home now?" Steve wondered. 

"In a few hours," Bucky told him. "Oh, and Nat and your parents will be here soon."

"Noooooo," Steve groaned, screwing his eyes shut. "'m goin' back t' sleep."

Bucky laughed. "You know, you haven't changed a bit in twenty-eight years."

"Don't... don't let Nat in," Steve slurred, eyes half lidded. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Why not?"

"She's gon' yell at me," Steve pouted adorably. 

"Yeah, most likely."

Steve pouted even harder. 

The door burst open, and in stormed Natasha and Steve's mom, Sarah. His dad, George followed calmly. 

Steve's eyes went wide. "No."

"Yes," Sarah said dangerously. "Steven Grant Rogers, would you care to explain why I had to find out about this from your boyfriend?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow at Steve, who stared at him pleadingly. The blonde was mostly sobered up by now, probably from the terror of seeing his angry mother and best friend walk in the door. 

"Are those rings?" Nat grabbed Bucky's hand and held it up to the light, examining the gorgeous black and green engagement ring. 

"Yeah," He said sheepishly. 

"We'll talk about this later, young man," Sarah snarled, pointing a stern finger at her son, who grew impossibly smaller under her accusing gaze. "And you can tell me all about why you decided to keep pitching until you tore your rotator cuff. James."

His head snapped up. "Yes, ma'am?"

Her eyes softened. "Let me see that ring."

Bucky held his hand out to her, grinning like a madman. "Isn't it gorgeous?" 

She took his hand in hers, examining it. Nat leaned forward too. "It certainly is. Steve has really good taste in these things. I'm just wondering why I wasn't told it was happening." She shot another glare at her son. 

Bucky shrugged. "Neither of us really knew it was happening."

Nat and Sarah went to examine Steve's ring, leaving George and Bucky staring at each other awkwardly. 

"So you proposed?" George asked in a deep rumble. 

"He did first. Then I did." Bucky met the man's gaze. 

George had never really approved of them; he was the type of man who would always stick to the way he was raised and wasn't very open minded of other ways, especially sexualities. 

George cleared his throat awkwardly. "Can we... talk outside?"

Bucky shared a glance with Steve, who nodded encouragingly. 

"Yes, sir." Bucky followed George out into the hallway, where the man laid a hand upon his shoulder. 

"James..." George hesitated, then blew out a breath. "At first, I didn't really approve of my son's choice to love men. I thought it was just because of how young he was, and that he was just confused- no, shut up and listen," He said, when Bucky opened his mouth to interrupt. "But then he grew up, and he was still getting his heart broken by men, and I... I accept him, now. Especially when I started to really pay attention to how you two acted together, and I saw that you really loved each other. You're exactly the same as Sarah and I are, and every other normal couple I've ever seen. But what I'm trying to say is, you're a good kid, James, and I already love you like my own son. I'd be proud to be able to call you that for real."

Bucky, sensing he wasn't finished, said nothing. 

"I just ask you take care of him. He's been through so much already, and now he's lost baseball, and we're all scared what he's going to do with himself. You've done a brilliant job taking care of him so far, and I don't even think you're capable of stopping, but know that if you hurt him I will break your neck."

Bucky nodded. "Yes, sir. I understand."

"Good. Now how about we go see what the girls are doing before they put Steve through anymore emotional trauma, yeah?"

They shook hands and went back into the room. 

~*~*~

"Steve," Bucky cried, exasperated. "Stop taking the fucking sling off."

Steve rolled his eyes, barely even paying attention to the football rerun on the TV in front of him. "When are you going to stop worrying? It's been three weeks, I'm fine." 

"The doctor said four," Bucky scolded, gently putting Steve's arm back into the sling. "If you take it off one more time I'm going to call Natasha."

"Call me for what?" Natasha asked, walking in their front door. 

Bucky glared at Steve, hands on his hips. "He keeps taking the sling off."

"I don't need it! I'm fully healed, see?" Steve tried moving his arm in a show of how fine he was and immediately hissed in pain. 

"Oh my god," Bucky muttered, massaging his temples. "I need a drink. Nat, you want anything?"

"Got whiskey?" 

Bucky nodded and headed up the stairs to the kitchen, pulling out various alcohols to make the drink he wanted. 

He heard Nat enter the kitchen and didn't look up, focusing on the different bottles in his hands. 

"How are you feeling?"

Bucky sighed, putting the bottles away and taking a long drink of his glass, leaning against the counter. "Peachy."

Nat snorted.

Bucky realized he was holding way too much tension in his shoulders and let them drop, hanging his head and breathing out slowly. "I'm just worried about Steve."

Nat said nothing. 

"He's already been through so much, with the drinking and losing his sister and now-" Bucky's voice cracked. He took a moment to compose himself and cleared his throat. "I don't know, Nat."

Still, she was silent. 

Bucky knew this tactic all too well but kept talking. "He asked me if I wanted to adopt a kid, you know. A teenager. I said I'd think about it. But I don't really know what to think."

He turned and handed Nat her whiskey. 

"I want one. I really do. I just... how am I ever going to raise a kid? I'm just about the worst parental figure there is. I mean, look at me! I spent five years as a spy in Afganistan, Nat, and I play a kid's game for a living. And now it's without the one person who made it all worth it. Not to mention the nightmares and PTSD attacks and the fact that I sleep with a knife under my pillow." He stared at her despairingly, wishing she would just say something. "I never even finished high school, Nat."

The kitchen was silent for a long moment. 

Bucky coughed. "I'll take some of your world famous advice now, if you don't mind."

Nat set her drink down. "The thing with kids is, they're going to love you no matter what. It's basic human instinct. And you're going to love them no matter what, which is also a basic human instinct. I don't think you'd even be capable of hurting a kid, James."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Thanks, you've been a huge-"

"Have you ever hurt Steve?" Nat cocked an eyebrow at him, folding her arms over her chest. "In an anxiety attack? PTSD episode? Just plain anger?"

Bucky frowned. "Well, no-"

"Then you're not going to hurt something that you see as your child." Nat interrupted him again, and Bucky's mouth shut with a click. "Of course, there's always a black sheep, but it's virtually impossible for a parent to hurt their kid."

Bucky picked up the question hanging in the air between them and turned it over in his head, staring down at his glass. 

"What if I turn out like my father?" He whispered, feeling cold. 

"That's not going to happen," Natasha said confidently, turning to go back downstairs. "You're not capable of doing what he did."

She left, and Bucky leaned back against the counter. 

He wasn't so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even know

**Author's Note:**

> I really don’t know what this is


End file.
